The Begining
by Jemina
Summary: The tail begins. Before FOH: First Confrontation, before Gambit ever met the little girl, Sherry, LarlaRose and Jasmin began a journey. This is the begining.
1. Introduction

Introduction

There are some things that people want kept secret and there are other things that can't be found out. Some government projects, if ever discovered by the public, would discredit those in power—crippling them to the point that chaos would reign supreme. This is where conspiracy theorists get their credibility.

All governments try to hide things. In this day and age, with so many super-beings running around, it would be insane to not want super-soldiers that can be controlled as military and primary defense. Captain America, Omega Red and Weapon X are among the few known products of these programs. Other countries are struggling to catch up, by creating their own programs to compete with these that were started fifty years ago.

Madripoor, an island refuge for the rich and criminals alike, has just joined the countries in the super-soldier race. It has put out an all-call for the best and brightest, recruiting them by any means necessary, be that bribes or force. Either way, it wasn't hard for an island of professional mercenaries and some of the richest and most powerful men in the world to get what they want, when they want it.

No one would, or could, say anything when Madripoor started "recruiting" people for this program. It is governed by no one and the laws of the land have never had any effect. The laws of nature don't even apply anymore, as they are being changed to produce power…

* * *

Please reveiw. Any comments welcome.


	2. Prolog

Prolog

"So, Chekov, remind me why I agreed to marry you knowing you were going to drag me off to this God-forsaken rock?" a very pregnant woman sighed as she struggled to get into a taxi that was supposed to be taking them to what they were told was their "temporary residence".

"Because you love me, you're going to give birth to my child and I got a very good job here, Sara," he laughed, but as he tried to help her into the taxi, he couldn't see what she was complaining about. He was more worried what the twelve-hour flight had done to the child. When he accepted the job, Chekov knew he would have to leave before Sara gave birth and he was unwilling to leave her back in the States without him. They had only been married for three months and he still was over-protective of his new wife and baby.

When he was sure that Sara was secure and buckled in, Chekov rounded the taxi and got in. The cab driver grinned maliciously at them, but he had his orders. He was to play no tricks on the couple and was to take them to one of the nicest hotels in Hightown. The driver slowly pulled away from the curb and merged with traffic. These people were under the protection of the Prince, and everyone knew not to mess with him if they wanted to live.

Chekov looked around. As the plane had landed, he could tell that the city was split into the upper and lower class districts. He knew his new employers weren't going to send them to the poor side of town—he was too important for that—but he wasn't expecting to be housed where it seemed like multi-billionaires should stay. He glanced around at the garden that lined the long circular driveway that led to the faux gilded front doors.

Next to him, Sara gasped. "This is where we're staying? You told me this job you took would pay better, but I've never even seen a place that looks like this, let alone been inside." She turned away from the window to smile softly and lean into him. "Maybe I should have been easier on you, but you didn't tell me anything about his new job, just that it was 'better'."

The driver had heard enough. He got out to unload the bags, leaving the lovebirds in the car. After he got their bags delivered…he sighed. After he got the bags delivered, it was back to the airport to wait four hours to get his next clients. At least he was getting paid very well for these last few days. He loaded the bags on a trolley and went to the woman's door and opened it rather rudely.

"C'mon," he said, "I'll take you up to your suite and make sure you're settled." _And I'm rid of you morons,_ he added silently.

"Thank you," Sara said gratefully, taking the hand the driver offered her for assistance. "That would be great." She couldn't help the laugh that escaped when Chekov came up beside her, scowling and trying to take her from the driver as she clung to his arm. Sara refused to leave the driver, just to provoke her husband. He deserved it for not telling her anything about the job.

As the driver escorted them into the building pulling the trolley behind him, he told them a little about the hotel. "And the only building that rivals it's magnificence is the palace that can be seen from almost everywhere, if you only look to the East."

The driver truly hated making nice with foreigners, but if the Prince was going to pay him three times what he normally made and he barely had to do anything, he would be polite. Money was scarce in Lowtown and he had to eat, plus, if the Prince was also willing to provide protection as long as he kept quiet about anything he was currently doing, he may even add a smile to the politeness.

He knew there had to be a reason he was being told to keep quiet. These people he was bringing in were special. He would pick up the next clients key cards and sign them in even before he left to pick them up. Even criminals tended to follow protocol in Madripoor, but he didn't think many people knew who these people were, and the couple didn't even seem to notice it.

Absentmindedly, the driver opened the suite door and chuckled to himself as he began to unload the trolley. This information would fetch a lot on the street, but he was being paid more to stay silent…maybe after he was done and had all the names. Then he could sell them as a set.

Sara felt energized for the first time in weeks. She happily fluttered around the many rooms, exploring closets and such. She was a girl who wasn't used to luxury and was determined to enjoy it while she could. The constant burden of the baby was lifted as she stepped out on the balcony that overlooked the sparkling Pacific. She sighed happily, deciding she could defiantly live like this.

Chekov was very impressed with the accommodations his new employers provided. Sara seemed almost…giddy. He paused a moment to study her. The mid-length red hair that flowed freely behind her as she practically danced through the suite was in sharp contrast with her bright green eyes. She looked almost too delicate to be having a baby, but she was tough and, at times like this, it didn't even seem like she had the extra weight.

He was never bitter that she got pregnant. He had been planning to ask Sara to marry him when he found out about the baby. Chekov also knew that Sara still insisted on thinking that her being pregnant was the only reason he married her, but to be fai, he hadn't done much to prove otherwise.

He absentmindedly paid the driver and dismissed him, his mind clearly elsewhere. He casually strolled out onto the balcony to join Sara. He gently placed an arm around her waist and pulled her to him. He looked down at her and grinned as she leaned against him. The combination of excitement, fresh air and exercise had put color into her cheeks. He knew now how one of the most beautiful sights in the world was a pregnant woman.

"Beautiful, isn't it?" he asked, quietly, not wanting to ruin the mood and never taking his eyes off her.

Sara hit his chest playfully. "Fine. I'll admit it's a beautiful God-forsaken rock." Suddenly, Sara seemed to lose all her energy and pulled away from him. "I'm gonna go to sleep. Will you be here in the morning?" she asked accusingly.

Chekov sighed. She would probably never trust him again, especially since he was to report fist thing in the morning to get more information. She probably wouldn't be up by then. "You know they want me there tomorrow."

Sara took one look at him and headed off into the bedroom. She couldn't believe him. He was leaving her alone again and she couldn't do anything about it. Without saying another word, she turned out the lights and got into bed.

Chekov slowly followed and lay down quietly beside her. He'd have to fix this when he got back.

* * *

Two weeks after Sara and Chekov moved into their permanent residence, which was really a part of the compound that was a glorified down for the employees and their families, Chekov got the message he'd been waiting for. It said to report immediately to the medical wing, because Sara had gone into labor. He tied to quickly find a place where he could safely leave the compound he was testing. He hoped it would eventually lead to a way to accelerate the aging process in clones so they would be more time-efficient. 

When it was safe, Chekov hurriedly left the lab, among sincere and sarcastic calls of "good luck" and "have fun" from colleagues. He practically ran though the halls in his rush to get to the medical wing. He had waited a long while for this, and he'd be damned if he missed anything. The baby was also right on schedule and he'd requested this week off so he could help be there and support his new wife and now child, but he'd been denied. Apparently, what he was working on was too important and couldn't be delayed. He began to wonder if he would be required to return to work right after the baby was born. Regardless, he would provide as much support as he could and provide anything else that was needed also.

Once Chekov arrived, two things hit him when the automatic doors slid open revealing the medical wing. The first was the yelling almost immediately followed by the sight of blood and a nurse making him back up out of the delivery room.

"There have been some complications and we're doing all we can to save your baby," the nurse told Chekov, looking slightly flustered.

Chekov grabbed the nurse by the shoulders, resisting the urge to shake her. "And Sara…what's happening with my wife?"

The nurse now looked terrified. "Sir, we're doing everything we can to save both the mother and child…"

Now he did shake her. "You're telling me that with all this high-tech equipment, you still can't save a life?"

"Please, sir, just sit down and calm down." The nurse was considering giving this man a sedative and then asking for a raise or at least a bonus. "These people need all the help they can get and I need to get back to work, so if you'll excuse me…"

Chekov released her and sat on one of the hard benches that lined the hall outside the door to the medical wing. This couldn't be happening. This was supposed to be a happy time. He was supposed to be starting a new life with a new wife and baby and hell, even a new, better job to boot. He couldn't lose Sara and if the baby survived, and she didn't, how would he take care of her? He couldn't with his job and he didn't know the first thing about taking care of children, let alone infants. That's what he had Sara for.

Inside the delivery room, which doubled as the OR and anything else it needed to be, the doctor was trying everything to get the mother and child through the emergency C-section they had to perform in order to save the child. Unfortunately, it seemed that nothing they tried could save the mother. The doctor sighed as he pronounced the mother dead and stated the time. They were building super-soldiers, yet one of the most natural processes—birth—could still wreak so much havoc on the body. Now he had to go deliver a baby to a father with a now broken family.

* * *

Chekov was secretly pleased that the baby would be kept in the medical wing for several days for observation. That would give him a few days to prepare and get used to this new way of life for him. The body, he was told, would be properly disposed of, but he needed to figure out what he would do with Jasmin. He named the baby according to his wife's wishes. 

He sighed. He guessed his only option would be to take Jasmin to work with him. A newborn at work—people would love that, but there wasn't anything else that he could do, so people would just have to deal with it.

If only this compound was more family-oriented, but it wasn't, he knew. It was made for research, not comfort and if someone had a family that wanted to come along, so be it.

* * *

General Fury considered his options. A super-soldier operation had just been discovered in Madripoor and while the island nation wasn't outside his jurisdiction, he didn't want to send in S.H.I.E.L.D. agents to do the dirty work. He didn't have the manpower to spare. 

He chuckled secretively to himself. S.H.I.E.L.D. may not have the manpower to spare, but he knew someone who hated these operations who wouldn't' mind taking one out and he was more than capable.

Nick Fury tuned to a man working on a computer. "Private! What was the last known location of Wolverine?"

The man immediately stopped what he was doing and brought up on the screen an address and phone number.

Nick glanced at it. "How recent is this information?"

"Two hours, sir!" was the private's reply.

"Get him on the phone—secure line in my office."

"Yes, sir," was the last thing Nick heard before leaving the room and the phone was ringing when he stepped through the door of his office.

* * *

Logan had just returned to his hotel after wandering the streets of Tokyo and trying to figure out why they looked familiar when the telephone rang. 

"What the hell?" he growled at the phone, before stalking over to it and picking it up. "This better be good," he snarled at the person on the other end.

"Wolverine," was the grim reply. "Glad you're there."

Logan immediately recognized the voice. "Nick. One—it's Logan. Two—I thought I told you that if I ever heard from you again I'd take back the gift I gave you in Kuwait and gut you now like I should have then."

"Cool it, Logan." Logan could detect the pleasure in the general's voice. "I only called to give you some information that might be of interest to you."

Now that caught Logan's attention. He had always known Nick was a good man. He wasn't afraid of anything, not even a horrific death, but he also facilitated Logan's rehabilitation. That's why he had made the decision to spare Nick when he killed the other soldiers mercilessly in Kuwait. "What information and why aren't your people taking care of it? Unless…"

"No, it's not a clue to your past or anything like that. Just good ol'-fashioned fun that we don't have the resources to handle currently. We've discovered a new super-soldier program in a small island in the Pacific. Ever heard of Madripoor?"

* * *

Nick Fury was in an uncharacteristically good mood. For once things were actually going as planned. He stepped out of his office and headed out to the bridge of the S.H.I.E.L.D. helli-carrier and was jumped on by a very familiar form. 

"John," Nick said, only semi-seriously, "I thought we discussed keeping this monster off the bridge. The courses are one thing, but people are trying to work."

"Aw, Uncle Nick, you know you love me," Larla-Rose said. "And I'm not causin' any trouble!"

Both John and Nick laughed at the five-year-old. John took his daughter off of the general. "Larla, you don't have to cause trouble—you are trouble." Then he turned to his friend. "So Nick, did you make any progress on that project?"

Nick smirked. "I put an old friend on the trail."

John laughed. "I do believe that was almost a smile! Now, would I know this friend?" John frowned as his friend's expression turned introspective and mysterious.

"I hope not." There was a moments silence and then Nick added, "Up for some friendly competition? Ever since I got that promotion—"

"Well-deserved if I may say so," John interrupted.

"Okay. Well-deserved promotion, I haven't kept in the best of shape. Maybe you might have a chance on the courses now."

Larla-Rose perked up in her father's arms. "Can I come too?" she asked hopefully.

Nick groaned with mock-frustration, not that man people could tell, unless they knew him. "John, now neither of us have a chance—Larla beats us every time."

John ruffled his daughter's hair. "I know, but maybe this time we'll beat her?"

* * *

Logan took the first flight he could from Japan to Madripoor. Fury knew his weak spot. If there was any chance that he could shut down one of these damn programs, he would, and it wouldn't mater who got in the way.

* * *

"Why won't she stop crying?" Chekov asked aloud. 

Several co-workers chuckled and went about their business. Amber, one of the more sympathetic female workers, took pity on him.

"Ya know," she told Chekov, "maybe if you would actually pay attention to her…pick her up, interact with her…she might not cry so much. Just a suggestion."

This was the first day that Chekov had to deal with Jasmin. He was told to pick up the child after work the day before. He had been up all night and was beginning to lose his patience. He couldn't stand this for one nigh, let alone for the next three years. Then to deal with this at work? The more he thought about it, the more tired and discouraged he got and the more she seemed to cry.

Chekov glanced at the formula he was working on. He was developing a compound that would accelerate aging in clones, but maybe, just maybe… would it wok on Jasmin? He hadn't thought about it for use on humans, but it would have to be safe for them. After all, clones were all essentially a copy of a human being, so it should be safe to use on his own child. It would make Chekov's life easier. Jasmin would, hopefully, age at twice the normal rate until she reached puberty. Only half the time spent with this obnoxious baby was better than all the time.

He went back to his testing station and slipped a sample and a syringe into his pocket and went back to where he had put Jasmin that morning. She was on a steel table near the wall out of the way and thankfully where he could easily block what he was doing from view with his body.

He eased the formula and syringe out of his pocket. He had seen enough shots done, he figured he could manage. He drew up the formula and turned it needle end up to push any air out. He tapped it once and injected some into the air. He didn't think that it needed to be placed into a vein, or hoped it didn't. It hadn't been tested on a human being before, so nothing was sure. He then jabbed the needle into Jasmin's arm.

Jasmin screamed. Amber rushed over an gasped.

"Chekov!" she squealed. "What—" and that was the last thing either of them heard as the explosion drowned everything else out.

* * *

This was practically the last part of the compound Logan had to visit and he wanted to make sure he destroyed everything. He didn't want anything to survive. He threw the grenade in the door and waited for a few seconds before entering and making sure all the people were killed. He searched the entire room, but when he reached the back corner of the room and picked up the overturned table, he didn't believe what he saw. 

"Oh shit."

* * *

Please reveiw. Any comments welcome.


	3. Jazz

Jazz

Logan knew he had a problem. He didn't do kids, but this wasn't even a kid, it was just a baby. He wouldn't kill it and couldn't leave it with some random stranger. It just didn't feel right and that was a new experience for him. He knew he wouldn't feel right leaving this fragile little thing. It had just survived the bomb and he felt some level of responsibility toward it.

He growled at himself. He shouldn't be feeling like this. He should be able to just leave this little girl, Jasmin, from what it said on the dog tags, on the street.

What kind of place gave babies dog tags? Logan began to wonder exactly what they were doing there besides the general preliminary research. If they had started experimenting on kids…Logan growled again, drawing some strange looks from an old lady he passed. He couldn't abandon Jasmin now. He felt like he had a connection to her and a responsibility for her after killing her parents.

Logan held the baby almost tenderly. "C'mon, kid. Looks like it's you an' me now," Logan said, changing directions and heading back to the hotel he'd checked into earlier.

* * *

_Okay,_ Logan thought. _I may not know a lot about kids, but I do know this isn't right._

Logan had been taking care of Jasmin for almost two months now and the little parasite had grown on him, but he knew that it shouldn't be trying to crawl yet. He never did find out exactly how old the kid was, but it was now growing and developing too fast. It couldn't have been more than a couple weeks old when he found it and it was already trying to crawl away.

Logan couldn't figure out what to do with it, r who to ask about it's strange development. Anyone who could help was destroyed when he blew up the compound. Even if Logan could ask one of them, he'd lose his temper and gut them on principle anyway.

"God damn-it! Stay put!" he snarled at the child, as it tried to crawl away and explore. Jasmin giggled at him and waved her arms a bit, not upset in the least that her exploration was cut short or she was being snarled at. She was used to both by now, and by being picked up, she had a new toy—hair.

Logan growled a bit more as he tried to untangle himself from Jasmin's grasp. "Ya know, if I didn't like ya kid…" he threatened. "Ya pro'bly don't understand me."

That brought a small smile to his face. Jasmin probably understood him as much as Logan understood her and he didn't understand her at all. He knew she liked to eat, sleep and gurgle a bit. That didn't change the fact that he viewed them both as doomed to wander the earth alone, but who said two kindred spirits couldn't be alone together?

* * *

One year after Logan had acquired his little tag-along, Jasmin was developed enough that he felt safe leaving her home when he went off to do things he wanted to. That is, he might be able to, if she would let him go anywhere.

"Jazz," he growled threateningly. Most normal people would take that as the warning it was and top pestering Logan, if they were brave enough to start pestering Wolverine in the first place. "I can't take ya. It's not a place fer kids, an'…never mind."

Jazz pouted up at him from where she was diligently attached to his leg. "I wanna go. Don't wanna be left here!"

Logan gently pried her arms off his leg and held up her away from him by the back of her shirt. He had gotten used to the fact that Jasmin just was going to develop faster than most other kids. After just one year of being together, she was already entering the whiney, fussy stages of the terrible twos and there didn't seem to be anything Logan could do about it.

"Yer not goin' an' that's final!" he said and deposited Jazz in the middle of the bed of the hotel room they were staying at for a few days. Logan really needed to met with these "informants" and get some information from them. He didn't want Jazz to be there to cause trouble or see what he was going to do to them after. The information he was getting couldn't get out. "Stay here an' don't cause trouble. Watch TV or something."

Logan sighed as Jazz pouted from the middle of the too-large bed. "Ya can't come," he said and left the room quickly. He couldn't stand to see that look in her eyes. He'd start taking her when she was older and after he taught her how to fight, but now wasn't the time.

As soon as Logan left the room, Jazz climbed down off the bed. If Logan was going to be mean and leave Jazz in that stupid room for hours, Jazz was going to help herself to the cookies she knew Logan kept in a drawer with those smelly cigars he seemed so attached to. Then she was going to go see what else she could get into.

* * *

Jazz smiled and waved at the people as she passed them. Logan had told her yet again to stay in the stupid hotel where there was never anything to do. They were in Paris because Logan had some more business with something. Jazz still wasn't quite sure why Logan always seemed to have business and she wasn't even sure what business was. All she knew was that she didn't have any, so was going to wander and look at the pretty buildings and try to talk to the strange people.

Jazz didn't have any worries and the people seemed enthralled and entertained by her, but when Logan got back to the hotel room, anger didn't even begin to describe it.

He stormed out of the hotel, determined to follow her scent.

Jazz on the other hand, wandered into a restaurant where she started to pick food off of people's plates. One couple pulled out a chair and placed Jazz, who they though was an adorable three-year-old, in it and began feeding her. All Jazz cared about, since she couldn't understand their French, was that they were giving her food.

Logan, after following her scent for two hours through the city, found her there enjoying dinner.

"Hi Logan!" the toddler said happily, quite pleased with herself for finding food and interesting people.

"Is she yours?" the man asked, noting that Logan looked about ready to kill something. "She wasn't any trouble."

"She's my sister," Logan answered in passable French. "I'll take her off yer hands now. C'mon," he added to Jazz. "I told ya ta stay put."

Jazz whined. "But you always tell me that. I get bored all by myself!"

"Well, now that ya can get out, maybe I might start takin' ya with me." As they entered the hotel, Logan reconsidered. "After I teach ya some things." It was past time he started to teach Jazz to fight.

* * *

Jazz climbed out of the truck. "So, we're gonna be stayin' here?" she asked as the combination of the four hour ride and the piles of snow almost made her fall. "Ya know, it's really cold here."

Logan came around the truck to help Jazz struggle through the snow. He ended up just picking her up. He carried Jazz up to the door where Jazz whined. "I can walk, Logan." Jazz reached up to try the door, and it easily swung open with a creek. "You don't even lock it?"

Logan glared at her. "Ya think anyone would find it? An' if they needed this ol' cabin enough, there ain't no harm in that. Better'n havin' 'em freeze."

Jazz giggled through her chattering teeth and shivering. "You do have a heart!"

Logan almost playfully swatted at her as she danced away. "So I guess this means you're not tired?" Logan started toward the fireplace to try to get a fire going and some heat.

"Why would I be tired? I slept on the plane and most of the way here. Are you sure you don't have anyone else you need to talk to?"

"No kid, we're defiantly stayin' here fer awhile." Logan glanced at her. "Unless it turns out ta be too cold fer ya."

Jazz had climbed in a chair and sat with her knees pulled to her chin and was still shivering. After Logan got a small fire started, he pulled a blanket off a stack in the corner and threw it over her.

"Shouldn't be too long before it's warm in here," Logan said, trying to give Jazz some form of encouragement.

Jazz laughed softly. "I can still see my breath!"

Logan slid under the blanket with her, hoping the extra body heat would help. "Least you're still breathing," he offered.

They spent the next few hours relaxing like that in silence. Jazz fell asleep blissfully unaware that her official training would start soon.

* * *

Jazz woke up slowly, but tried to keep still and tried to keep her breathing steady. In the two months they stayed in the cabin in Northern Canada, she had learned a few things like how to hide the fact that she was awake from her older brother. Logan had her training practically non-stop in several different martial arts from dawn 'til dusk seven days a week. She suspected that he tended to forget that she didn't have a healing factor and was still half his size. She laid in her bed perfectly still for a few more minutes until Logan walked into her room.

"C'mon kid, I know you're awake," Logan said, briefly wondering if he was pushing her too hard. For about the past month, Jazz had been trying to sneak as much extra rest as she thought she could get away with. He thought she would start to complain if things got too much for her. She hadn't yet.

Jazz threw a pillow over her head. "You've been training me forever! I bruise—you don't. I'm all sore and achy and I'm not gonna get up." She hoped Logan would listen. There were only so many beatings she would take before being broken. Now she didn't work, but her big brother would probably make her anyway.

"How 'bout this—we train today an' you'll have the next few days off. We need ta go inta town ta get some supplies now that the snow's starting ta melt. That'll give ya the break ya need."

Jazz took the pillow off her face. "Yeah, I'll get at least a week, knowing you and the fact there's nothing around here." She reluctantly got up and left the warmth of her bed. "But do we have to train today?" Jazz briefly considered pouting, but she learned that with her brother it never seemed to work. When she used it on anyone else though, it got her anything she wanted.

"Kid, you've got ta learn this. I won't have ya relyin' on others ta keep ya safe." Once he saw that Jazz was getting up, he left the room.

Jazz almost felt like crying. She knew Logan just wanted to try and protect her, but he always pushed her so hard. She didn't understand. She sat on the edge of her bed staring at the door where her brother had been just moments ago. She never seemed to learn thing fast enough for him but she swore to herself, she would try her hardest after she healed and got some much needed rest.

After her moments pause, Jazz started to bounce around the room, momentarily forgetting her doubts. She skipped over to her dresser to change from her pajamas into something more appropriate for sparring. Then, realizing that her bouncing around would tell Logan that she had more energy than she let on, instead of just looking forward to a much needed break, she calmed down. She sat down quietly at the table to wait for breakfast, swinging her legs impatiently.

Several minutes later, Logan sat a plate in front of her and took another place at the table. They ate mainly in silence, Jazz not wanting to give away her hyperness. Logan left the table to go clear the sparring area. Jazz quickly cleared the table and met her brother in the living room. The furniture was already cleared and Logan was waiting for her.

Jazz looked at him in distaste. "We're sparring? What happened to I bruise?"

Logan rolled his eyes and bowed. The he proceeded to teach her a lesson. When he was finished, Jazz looked up from the floor. "Ow."

Logan offered her a hand up. "What did you do wrong?" he asked impartially.

Jazz sighed and rolled her eyes as she let herself be pulled up. "I didn't pay attention and I'm not as good as you," she stated, cringing as she was forced to carry her own weight. She had landed hard, but wasn't going to show it. Jazz was just as stubborn as her brother and wasn't going to let him win.

Logan waited for her in the middle of the room. Jazz almost dreaded going out there to meet him. She didn't like to lose and was beginning to feel like she would never win. Finally, she reached him. They bowed and the sparring started again. Suddenly a thought occurred to her, "Logan, where're our parents?" Logan froze and Jazz took the opportunity to sweep his feet out from under him, a move that he would've easily avoided at any other point in time.

Jazz put her hands on her hips and stared down at her brother. "What did you do wrong?"

Logan just glared. "I didn't do anything wrong, brat," he said getting up. "Where did that come from?"

Jazz laughed a little. "The kick came from my foot an' the question from my mouth."

Logan walked over and put an arm around her shoulders. "Why the sudden interest in parents?" He carefully kept "our parents" out of the question.

Jazz let him lead her over to the couch that was now against the wall. "Well, everyone else seems to have them but us," she stated. It all seemed very obvious to her.

Logan sat her down on the couch and knelt in front of her. He still hadn't told her all he knew, but Logan knew he would have to one day, but this wasn't it. "They're dead." He said it without preamble or explanation. If she was going to understand it, she would. She had seen enough dead things to understand what it meant. "Now kid, go get your stuff. Think we'll start the re-supplyin' earlier than I planed."

Jazz ran off to get her stuff. _Dead? Well 'least that explains why I don't see them,_ she thought. _So, it's just Logan and me.

* * *

_

After several more months of constant training, Logan decided that Jazz was finally ready to stop. He would see to it that they never stopped training, but she was young enough and learned quickly enough that she didn't need the level of training she was getting.

"Hey Jazz," he called to the girl. She looked up from her book. "How do ya feel 'bout leaving?"

Jazz stared at him for a few seconds in disbelief. "But I thought you wanted to stay here awhile?" she asked puzzled.

Logan almost smiled. "Yeah kid, I wanted ta stay her fer your trainin' so we didn't have any distractions, but ya don't need that anymore. I'm proud of ya, kid. But if ya wanna stay…"

Jazz beamed at the complement. They didn't come often from him. Then her face fell as Logan suggested they stay. She had been cooped up in the little cabin for far too long in her opinion. "No! I don't wanna stay here longer than we hafta. If you wanna leave, I won't say no." Jazz set down her book and went over to give Logan a hug. "Where're we going?"

* * *

Although Logan seemed to be totally confident in her fighting abilities, he didn't seem to think that Madripoor was the place for her. After the other places they had been, this seemed to be the nicest, but Logan had ordered her to stay in the hotel. Jazz couldn't see anything wrong with exploring a bit.

As soon as Logan left the room, Jazz grabbed the wallet that he always left behind "just in case". She had always wondered about her brother's fascination with the island and now she was going to find out. Jazz watched as Logan hailed a taxi and gave it directions. She copied him but told the driver to follow Logan's. If he thought she would stay in the hotel, he was sadly mistaken.

The driver glanced in the rearview mirror. "Ain'tcha a bit young t' be followin' people?" he asked the young girl who just got into his cab.

Jazz just rolled her eyes at him. "Oh, just shut-up and drive," she told him. Traveling with Logan had taught her how to deal with people of all types. She had also picked up an attitude of confidence that people, especially in places like Madripoor, learned to recognize. They also knew that youth also didn't mean inexperience.

The driver almost laughed. "Alright little boss, if you want t' follow that cab, I won't say no."

"Good," Jazz said and sat back, waiting until the cab stopped. At seven, she had almost perfected the haughty, over-confident, "I'm a princess" tone. She learned that it, combined with money would get her things that fighting wouldn't. Jazz watched with growing apprehension as the scenery changed from well-kept and rich, to ruins.

Seeing where she was going to be dropped off, Jazz didn't think following Logan was such a good idea. "Where is this?" Jazz asked as she gave the cabbie money.

This time the man did laugh at the little girl. If she didn't recognize the Princess, she was in over her head. "Girl, this is the Princess Bar. If you need to know somethin' an' the folks here don't know it, you won't be able t' find it," he commented as he quickly pulled away, leaving Jazz outside the bar.

_Well,_ she thought, _I came this far, I may as well have some fun and see what Logan's up to._

She had seen her brother enter the suspicious building and sat and watched some other interesting characters enter and exit. After about ten minutes of watching the door, she decided that Logan probably wouldn't be leaving anytime soon. She opened the door and tried to act like she belonged. While she attracted a few funny and suspicious looks, the people quickly returned to their business. They were used to minding their own business.

Jazz quickly spotted Logan. He was talking secretively with someone. Jazz tried to make her way over to the pair as inconspicuously as she could. She didn't think Logan had seen her as she slid into a booth that was as close as she dared to be to the pair.

Logan thought he detected a familiar scent on the air when the door opened, but he ignored it in favor of the conversation. He was getting information from a possible employer on a future job. Logan though Jazz was safe back in the hotel room, so he felt reasonably safe talking about taking on jobs. He didn't even flinch at the danger factor. Jazz was old enough that if anything happened she could take care of herself. Nothing would happen, though.

He still couldn't get over the feeling that she was here. Logan put it down to the fact that h was thinking about Jazz. He glanced around and sniffed the air, jus to make sure. Logan put thoughts of his young charge out of his mind. He had other things to think about.

Jazz continued to watch her brother and was surprised when a lady came by asking what she wanted. Not sure what she was doing, Jazz pointed to Logan. "Whatever he's having." The lady nodded and left, no questions asked. She returned with a slightly smelly amber colored liquid.

_Is that what he's drinking? I can't believe he would get it close enough to his nose to drink it,_ was Jazzes only thought as she shrugged and took a sip. She immediately started coughing. _That hurt!_ She wasn't one to give up though, and she gave it one more try. On the second try, Jazz could tolerate it. She wasn't expecting to be brought another as soon as she finished the first and another after that one. Soon she wasn't feeling good. She forgot that she was supposed to be hiding from Logan.

Jazz left the booth and walked over to where Logan was sitting. "Logan, I don't feel good."

Logan stared at Jazz for a good minute before he spoke. She had the clear scent of alcohol on her and was clearly drunk. "Jazz, yer drunk. Of course ya won't feel good." He sat Jazz down before she could fall, ignoring the deal he was trying to make for awhile. "Why were ya drinkin'?" _An' what were ya doin' here?_ Logan wasn't sure he wanted to know the answer to his silent question though.

"I was just having what you were," Jazz complained.

Logan chuckled. "How many'd ya have?" he asked, trying to decide whether to be angry or amused.

Jazz shook her head violently and almost fell out of her chair. "Only three," she admitted and giggled before adding a thoughtful, "I think," to it.

Logan growled and muttered something about bars that would serve anything to anyone. He turned back to his companion and soon to be employer. "I'll do it, but I need ta take care of this." Without waiting for a response, Logan rose and guided the young girl out the door. Instead of hailing a cab, he led her out into the street. Logan remembered Jazzes question about her parents and, while he didn't tell her the full story then in an effort to spare the girl's feelings, felt that this might be the perfect opportunity to tell her the story. Logan thought it would be too much to ask that she would think it was some sort of hallucination in the morning.

As they walked, Logan told Jazz the story of what her parents had been doing and how he had been asked to destroy the base. He didn't spare the details, but he also didn't try to make it as gruesome as he possibly could. He waited for her response.

Jazz wasn't sure what to say. She wasn't angry with Logan, who she now knew wasn't her real brother, and she also understood what had happened. She was disappointed that she would never know her parents, but at the same time, if they had done something to her, why would she want to know them? She felt Logan continue to stare at her, as if waiting for a response.

"Ya know," she said, "I'm not sure why you think I would care. It's nice to know what happened, but it won't change anything now that I do know." She hoped that was what he wanted to hear, even thought her head wasn't quite clear.

Logan was slightly relieved, but he wasn't sure if the girl was still drunk. In fact, he was pretty sure that she was still too drunk to remember it. Either way, it did ease his mind to know that she wasn't going to blame him for lying to her and for killing at least one of her parents.

* * *

Jazz waited until Logan left. He had told her that he needed to go into town for some things and he had told her to stay inside. They were staying in a cabin on the outside of New Orleans in the swamp because Logan had business in the city, but Jazz had learned Logan couldn't stand to be around so many people and had gotten used to staying outside all big cities. She had also gotten used to the fact that he would tell her to stay inside even if he didn't really mean it. Jazz had plans to sneak out of the cabin as soon as he gave her the chance and either explore the swamp or make her way into the city. Logan had gotten used to coming home and finding her gone.

Logan was only going to be gone for "a few minutes", so Jazz didn't have much time to get out. When Logan got back and found her gone, he would either ignore it or try to track her down and drag her back to the cabin. The last few times she had snuck out, he had ignored it, and she just hoped that he would ignore it again.

She waited a good fifteen minutes before starting to head out the door. While a few minutes wasn't that long, she knew it would be at least a half hour, giving her plenty of time to get far enough away that she would have a fair chance of not getting caught. She knew to follow the road, but not exactly. She put a change of clothes in her backpack and went into the swamp so he couldn't follow her scent, but she also tried to stay as close to the road as possible so she could still find her way to the city.

As soon as she could hear the normal city noises, she paused to change her clothes. She couldn't go into New Orleans smelling like the swamp, even though she guessed that it wasn't so uncommon. Then she headed into the city to explore.

When Logan got back, he returned to the demolished cabin. He could still smell the explosives used and figured it had been blown recently. He circled the area and couldn't find any footprints leading toward or away from the cabin, either Jazzes or the bombers. He checked again to make sure, but still couldn't find any footprints, or even a scent trail. He spent the next hour looking for clues, but couldn't find any. He was forced to assume the worst.

Jazz tried to quickly make her way though the swamp. It wasn't easy, but she was determined to not be stuck inside anymore. At one point, Jazz thought she heard a noise coming from the general direction of the cabin, but didn't stop to check it out. She could see the city up ahead and wasn't going to stop for anything.

_This's gonna be more fun then I thought,_ Jazz thought excitedly. There seemed to be some sort of celebration going on. New Orleans was full of people wearing bright colors that seemed blurred from a distance and all the buildings were decorated. As Jazz moved more toward what she perceived as the heart of the city, it seemed to just get more festive. As Jazz was looking around, a girl about her "age" knocked her to the ground who was obviously upset and looked lost.

* * *

Please reveiw. Any comments welcome.


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